


Out of Bounds

by Paranoxx



Category: Dragon Ball, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: Competition, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fetish, Fun, Intimacy, No Incest, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Games, Shameless Smut, Superpower Sex, Teasing, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoxx/pseuds/Paranoxx
Summary: Lets play a game. You can't use your hands. I can't use anything else.All's fair in love and war.Just a shameless one shot with a good bit of family time and bonding. Trunks is adorable.A ton of frustrating denial smut that I won't apologize for. It's fun to have someone to play with, especially if that person is a merciless Saiyan with no boundaries.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	Out of Bounds

**Author's Note:**

> Lock down does funny things to people. This is how I don't go insane. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Coronapocalypse. Be well.

** Out of Bounds **

“Why don’t we ever do things like that together?” Bulma asked through her pile of damp tissues. Vegeta looked up from the length of long smooth thigh that he was stroking. He tried to remember what the hell was supposed to be going on in the insipid movie that she was making him watch.

Two people standing at the front end of a very large ocean liner and the male was holding the woman’s arms out. Same guy that earlier had declared himself the ‘King of the World.’ Idiot. The Saiyan watched for a few more moments and then went back to exploring the texture of Bulma’s skin.

“If you want to do something like that, we can, Woman. I can _actually_ fly, you know. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he replied with obvious disinterest and an even greater disdain. The guy looked for all the world, to Vegeta, as though he were about to push the girl right off the boat. Which, to Vegeta, would have improved the flick. Or at the very least shortened its outrageous run-time. He’d personally fought wars that didn’t last as long as this movie.

If Bulma wanted him to pay attention to these “romantic” films she insisted on choosing for them, she should refrain from laying with her legs over his lap. She should dress in seven layers of burlap and slip some sort of horse tranquilizer into something she could then trick the Saiyan into drinking. That might work. 

Bulma huffed, disgusted. She pulled her legs away and sat up. 

“That’s not what I mean!” she cried in a voice that told him he was in trouble. “You don’t see him pawing at her every chance he gets. They are spending time together. Being sweet. Why can’t you ever be sweet?”

Vegeta hated these ‘movie nights.’ He didn’t care about Notebooks or Diaries or What it was about Mary. They always seemed to make him look like an asshole and he was worried about the environment of the planet. Surely other people besides his mate needed tissues as some point in their lives. 

Bulma made him do this twice a week. The Saiyan didn’t mind (too much) the times when she would allow him to pick what they watched. Bulma rather hated his choices and she usually talked through the whole thing, but it was better than this. 

“Using the word ‘paw’ to me is kind of offensive,” he said, doing his level best not to smirk. “And if you want me to be sweet, I can do that. I’ll drink more pineapple juice.” Vegeta lost his battle with the smirk.

She threw one of the little pillows at his head, “You are not allowed to hang around with Roshi anymore!”

Vegeta did laugh at that. It was indeed the old geezer who had told the younger men that pineapple juice might have some beneficial effects. Just because the Turtle Hermit was a pervert didn’t mean he didn’t know things. 

Bulma stared at her husband for a long moment and then laid back on the couch, extending those long, exquisite legs back out to rest over his thighs. She watched him out the corner of her eye and was surprised when Vegeta kept his attention focused on the flat screen. 

He knew she was looking at him. And so, he waited until her blue gaze wandered back to the movie before he resumed the intent inspection of her lovely legs. 

The Prince wasn’t wearing his gloves. His bare skin felt good against the ticklish area just behind her knees. He loved the shape of her heel and the curve of her calves. The satin of her skin was so much more enthralling than the story of a big boat that everyone on Earth (himself included) knew was going to sink.

“Pawing.”

Vegeta curled both hands around the finely made shins in his lap and looked at her. 

“I like to touch you,” he said simply. The man slid his hand under her legs and began to massage the muscles of her calves. He sent a small amount of his ki into the palms and fingers of his hands, warming them and giving her the benefit of a tiny portion of his power. 

Bulma tipped her head back and let out a small moan; it felt that good. Standing at the tables of her lab for most of the day did make her legs ache. Her husband seemed to know exactly how and where to put the perfect pressure of his fingers to relieve that distant pain. The depth of his voice when he spoke was something that could reach farther into her. He liked to touch her.

Bulma laid back, limp, and let Vegeta massage the muscles on her calves and the undersides of her knees. When he made it to the heels of her feet, she pulled them away. 

Vegeta looked up at her with his dark eyes and made to pull her back into position. He never liked to leave something that he had started unfinished. With the definite exception of her movies. 

Bulma sat up and tucked her feet under her bottom, hiding them from view. Vegeta let out a frustrated exhalation and sat back, folding one hand under his chin.

The Woman looked at her alien husband. He sat with his head resting against the back of his fist. A large fist that could and had killed people. A fist that she didn’t fear in the least. She shifted her eyes to his other hand. It rested on his own leg. 

Vegeta had such delectable hands. She loved to look at them when he wore his gloves. Long, tapered fingers with such stark definition. There was such power in those two hands and yet they could be the instruments of the most deadly and dangerous music. 

She fell victim to the things he could and would do with his hands at every turn. He could do something as gentle as the way he caressed her legs. Vegeta could give the greatest pleasure. She knew from experience that he could, without really trying, use those same two hands to annihilate an entire planet.

Vegeta touched her often. He would never do it in public. He would push her away and go off to stand by himself when anyone was looking. For him, it was a cultural thing that was ingrained into his brain. It had pissed her off for ages. Still did sometimes. Until she weighed it against the way he behaved in private. Vegeta was a totally different person when they were alone. 

Her eyes strayed back to his hands. 

“I can think of something fun we can do together,” she said, her evil mind spinning like the cogs in a clock.

The man perked up at that. He would do just about anything to get out of watching his wife blubber over another movie with a rather tragic ending. The world really was going to run out of tissues.

“I propose a game,” she continued, running one leg back over his available lap. Vegeta instantly moved to cup the heel of her foot. He squeezed with the skill of a master masseur. It felt so good that Bulma stopped talking for a few minutes to let him get on with it. 

“Game?” he asked eventually, still intrigued. Her games usually contained some element that involved him being trussed to something and he didn’t really mind that aspect at all. She did wonderful things to him while he was her captive. 

The Woman roused herself out of the stupor brought about by a great bout of stress relieving massage. She watched him, his spiked head bent to the task he’d set himself and smiled. Bulma loved being married to Vegeta. 

“The rules are complicated, you’ll have to pay attention,” she said. The Prince let go of her foot and turned to face her, black eyes intent. Any sort of competition was just the kind of thing to draw him like a moth to a flame.

“State your terms, Woman.”

Bulma drew her leg back under her and twisted around until she was inches from her husband. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth a little, drawing in his breath. Tasting the air now that she was close to him. 

“Until the end of the game you can’t touch me at all, in any way, with these,” she ran her fingers over the backs of both his bare hands. Vegeta curled his fingers into fists and Bulma fitted her own fingers into the dips between the ridges of his knuckles. 

“I won’t be able to touch you with anything else,” she went on, lifting her hands to wave her digits in the air.

Vegeta grunted in the way he did when accepting a challenge. 

Bulma put her hand on the side of his face and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. Vegeta flushed, lifting one hand to grasp her wrist but stopping just short of touching her skin.He only let her feel the heat coming off of him. He was very hot.

“Neither of us can touch the other with lips, tongue or teeth.”

Vegeta blew a jet of warm air over the inside of her wrist.

“That is acceptable, as long as you don’t touch me,” Bulma said, taking her hand away. The slender appendage slid down, over his throat and chest to his flat stomach. She turned her hand over, so her fingers pointed down and slipped them under the waistband of his sweatpants. No one could look as good in a casual pair of sweatpants as the Prince, especially when he didn’t bother with putting on a shirt. 

Bulma cupped his already semi erect penis in the palm of her hand. Vegeta jerked and made a gasping sound that was actually more like a growl. 

“We can’t touch each other here either,” she instructed and, taking his hand, moved it to cup her own pubis. Vegeta narrowed his eyes and with a wicked little grin curled his fingers so they pressed into the hollow of her opening. Bulma inhaled and tightened the muscles of her body to let him know how much she liked it when he did that.

“Any touching there and you lose, Vegeta,” she said, caressing the length of his cock as she withdrew her hand. Vegeta made a face that she couldn’t interpret, moving his thick thumb over her hidden clit before he pulled his hand away and set it back on his own thigh. 

Vegeta bent over, he took her nipple in his mouth and bit down gently, pulling the nub hard. He sucked at her through the fabric of her shirt and then abruptly let go, gratified to see the little peak rise to poke at the now damp material.

“So, I can’t do that?” he wanted to clarify, just to tease her. When Bulma didn’t immediately respond, Vegeta took the other nipple into his mouth and drew hard on it, making her swell on his tongue. He’d cheat while he could still get away with it. His wife was very strict with her rules once her games began. 

“Ahhh…no,” Bulma murmured on broken air. 

“I accept,” The Prince stated in his imperious voice and stood up. He looked down at his little wife. She had two wet spots on the front of her light blue t-shirt and a dark pink blush on her cheeks. 

The Prince put both hands behind his back and clasped them hard enough to hurt. Then he lifted one leg, balancing himself like a dancer on the opposite foot and rubbed the curve of his knee against just the extended peaks of her breasts. Bulma let him do it, inhaling to bring her greater contact.

She looked up at the gorgeous face of the man who was her mate. His black eyes glimmered with challenge and he was smiling. The front of his sweatpants was deformed by the tent of his hard cock while his tail swiped the air in restless movements behind him. He set his foot back down on the floor. 

Vegeta bent in half and pushed his nose into the space behind Bulma’s ear, taking her scent with relish. She circled his hips with her hands, running them over his curves to cup his perfect ass in both palms. She hadn’t made that part of him taboo. She wasn’t a stupid woman.

Vegeta slowly drew his body upright again. His long tail came around his body and cupped one of his wife’s full tits for a moment.

“You said nothing about this,” he said, flicking the hard nipple through the fabric. Not a dumb man, by any means. 

He looked down at her; she was so enticing, so desirable. He was hurting his own hands, holding them behind his back. Bulma could give as evilly as he could, and she knew how. 

The Woman grasped Vegeta’s tail with both hands and rubbed it under the weight of her breasts, using her thumbs to jerk at it the way she would have if she were touching his cock. 

Vegeta pulled his tail away and wrapped it around his own neck. He palmed the now full erection in between his legs.

“You are going to regret this, Woman,” he said, turning around to leave.

“Vegeta…The movie?” Bulma called in a commanding tone that her husband ignored.

Vegeta pushed the waistband of his pants down to let his hard-on show itself. He might not be able to use his hands to touch her but there was no rule against using them to touch himself. He stood in her full view and stroked the length of what he knew was impressive. 

“The guy dies, Bulma,” he said in a very even voice, pumping his fist over the insistent source of his need, “I am going to jerk off. I’ll meet you in bed.”

Vegeta walked out of the room and Bulma took into consideration that she may have made a mistake. Vegeta was not the sort of man to take a challenge with anything but the greatest seriousness. She turned back to the movie that no longer held any interest for her and thought about how much fun the next day or two would be.

>>>

Vegeta was asleep by the time Bulma came to the sleeping chamber that they shared. She stood by the side of the bed and considered. It was his way to wrap himself around her body when they slept; he had to be touching her. In his Saiyan mind, he could keep her safe while they slept that way. She had grown used to the heat of his skin over the years.

Now, Vegeta had constructed a barrier of sorts in the middle of the bed. He’d taken the extra pillows, only there for decoration, and made a wall in the center. He was on the far side of the mattress, his face turned away from her and his hands tucked under the pillow that cushioned his head. 

Bulma got into bed and got comfortable, thinking that she missed the heat of her Saiyan. After lying there and not sleeping for a good amount of time she sat up and threw Vegeta’s wall on the floor. It obviously woke him, or he was not sleeping in the first place because Vegeta scooted backward, keeping his broad back to his wife. When she laid back down Bulma realized that there was no rule of her game keeping her from laying her hands on him. She kept her body away from his, one hand on the dip of his waist. 

It was too much of a temptation. She pulled her arm from under the pillow to bury it in his thick, soft hair. Her free arm moved of its own volition, roaming over the terrain of her Prince’s body. Just for good measure, Bulma pulled one of her fluffy, down pillows out and tucked it against her chest. 

She knew Vegeta was awake and if his breathing was any indication, he was having a little trouble keeping to the rules. After a little while of enduring his mate’s attentions, he began to rock his hips slightly, though she could see by the set of his shoulders that both his hands were still firmly tucked under his head. 

Bulma enjoyed the sense of control it gave her to touch all the allowed terrain of his magnificent body with impunity. But eventually fatigue took her and she relaxed with just the palm of her hand on his waist. 

Vegeta let out an exasperated breath and forced himself to go limp but not before she heard him mutter darkly, “Pay backs a bitch, Woman.”

>>>

It took the blue haired woman approximately 8 minutes to figure out that she’d made a pretty severe mistake the next morning. It was the Prince’s usual way to be gone by the time she woke up, unless he was feeling particularly randy. Apparently this was one of those days because she woke up to having her backside firmly humped by a very sizable cock just after sun-up. 

For a minute or two she was too fuzzy to do anything but just enjoy the feeling. It wasn’t something that Vegeta had done before. 

Then, her eyes snapped open and triumph filled her brain. 

“I win! Already!” she exclaimed, though quietly. Vegeta did not react the way she expected at all. He did not stop what he was doing. Instead, he hooked one strong leg over her, bringing her even more flush up against his body. 

“Oh, no Woman. You are mistaken.”

Bulma was grinning like an idiot. But something in the confident tone of his low voice disturbed her. There was a distinct warning in it. 

“You are not allowed to-“ she started but he cut her off in that same low, feral tone. 

“Remember your exact words, my little vixen,” he said from behind her, making circles against her now. He was exceptionally hard. All over. And she could feel him from his chest to his thighs.

Bulma paused in her self-congratulations. Something was wrong with this picture. And what he was doing was outstandingly distracting. Vegeta always made it hard to think clearly when he got his heat up.

When Bulma did not immediately respond, Vegeta grinned to himself, though she couldn’t see him. 

“You said, I could use anything except my hands. That my mouth, tongue and teeth were out of bounds. The pretty little triangle between your legs that you so helpfully laid my hand on last night was sacrosanct. Those are your rules,” he arched against her, his cock nudging between the cheeks of her ass. “I am breaking none of them.”

Bulma went over her exact words and her cheeks flamed bright red when she realized that he was not wrong. Damn. 

But she could not help but argue, not that he expected anything else. Bulma was a poor loser.

“You are trying to get off on a technicality!”

That brought a full, rich measure of purely male laughter from the Saiyan. 

“Getting off is exactly what I am trying to do,” he murmured from the nape of her neck, warm air stirring the sensitive spot, “Wars are won on technicalities.” 

Fucking man.

He released her. “Look at me, Wife.”

Bulma felt every muscle in her lower body clench at those words. How did he manage to put that much lust into four words?

Almost reluctant, Bulma turned over to face Vegeta.

He was only inches away from her, those evil, jet eyes focused with mischief, smiling. Vegeta had both his hands above his head, holding onto a rung of the ornate headboard. The entire length of his naked form in full view, proud and aroused. His lips were pink, as were the tops of his cheeks in the most utterly appealing way.

Bulma caught her breath. He moved like a snake, using the leverage of his hands to bring both legs forward and catch one of her thighs between both of his. He writhed, pleasing himself against her skin without touching the apex of her legs. Bulma braced both her hands against his chest; exactly as he anticipated, giving the dark Prince precisely what he wanted.

Bulma stopped breathing all together at the sight in front of her. Vegeta arched his body, his head tipping back in ecstasy. The pillow pushed his thick hair down over his forehead. Vegeta made a deep, long moan, shuddering and he came over the top of her thigh and onto her belly. 

The man slowly relaxed without letting go of the metalwork of the headboard and let his wife go after a minute. That was one of the most satisfying things he’d ever done to himself and it showed in his face when he brought his gaze down to scan the Woman’s face. Bulma was staring at him with the most shocked look he’d ever seen on her. She was panting. Both hands still on his chest, digging into the muscle.

Bulma pressed her legs together, wet from two sources. She could not actually believe what Vegeta had just done. She could not believe how painfully, blazingly turned on she was. The man was a fucking daemon.

Vegeta pulled himself up into a sittingposition, looking down at her. He was beautifully, artfully mussed and in no way at all the slightest bit shy. He let her look at him, smiling like the Black Prince he had always been reputed to be.

“You’re fucking with the wrong man, Woman.”

Bulma couldn’t take her eyes off him. Vegeta stood up and stretched, still smiling at her the way she imagined the devil might when he finds the way to make you sell your soul. He walked away, vanishing into the bathing chamber and leaving her in a state of arousal that, after watching that show, took approximately 45 seconds to remedy. 

Bulma didn’t dare get out of bed until her wicked mate had left for his morning training. She didn’t trust herself to go anywhere near him. 

Not that he left her with any semblance of peace. Vegeta had come out of the personal freshly washed and still partially undressed. He’d left the front of his armour open to the navel. The evil Saiyan came back to the foot of the bed, his black gaze on her while he pulled on his gloves.

“Do you yield?” he’s asked, head cocked to one side, intent. Bulma mastered the powerful impulse to grab him and rip the skintight blue material violently off him. She said nothing, just gave what she hoped was a convincing shake of her tousled head.

Vegeta sighed, but he smiled again, showing his canines, “As you wish, Woman. I’ll come and find you later.”

>>>

Bulma took the threat seriously. Obviously, there was little or no lengths to which the Prince would not go to make her regret thinking she could easily outsmart a master strategist. Vegeta did almost everything in his life with the precision of a chess champion. She’d forgotten that he’d been trained in warfare from basically birth and was probably the most ruthless being in creation when it came to vanquishing an enemy. It put Bulma on high guard that she was now the enemy.

She could also not even begin to get the vision of him arched against her, coming, out of her head. She couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to come up with a way to even the score. Trying to work was worthless. There was no telling what he was planning but she’d have had to be dead from the hairline down to resist him if the morning was any indication. Vegeta was a very creative man.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” she told nobody in particular. Bulma needed time to think. She went back to the house, checking that the Gravity Room was running and collected an excited Trunks. He always loved it when they went out to spend the day together. 

>>>

Vegeta worked through the morning, pleased with himself. He was not usually too keen on masturbation; it wasn’t usually necessary. It was quite surprising how hard he’d come knowing his wayward wife was watching and could not either join or stop him. It had thrown him right over the edge when he caught the scent of Bulma’s helpless arousal. 

He pushed until mid-day, hunger driving him back to the house in search of sustenance. And revenge. The kitchen was empty except for Panchi when he arrived at the house. Vegeta looked around for his wife and son curiously, asking the older woman.

“They went out, dear,” she replied, sliding a huge bowl of something noodle in front of him. Vegeta tucked in, considering.

Clever Woman.

30 minutes later the Prince was dressed in Earth clothes, standing on the tallest dome of Capsule Corp with his eyes closed. The crafty heiress wasn’t as savvy as she thought. At least not when faced with a dirty minded Saiyan.

She’d taken Trunks with her. All good intensions come back to bite you in the ass, Vegeta thought, making himself laugh. He scanned and found his son’s ki without any real effort. Compared to the rest of the dismal signatures of West City the half-breed princeling stood out like a candle in the dark. Especially to his father. 

“Dad!” Trunks cried in childish delight, launching his small frame at the man he loved most in the world. Bulma spun around, staring. Vegeta caught his progeny, holding him against his chest. He even let the boy gift him with a rare hug, not minding the PDA for once. He patted the solid little back of the kid who hung from around his neck like a monkey and gave his horrified mate a sinister grin.

“We are going to get lunch,” Trunks was enthusing in his father’s ear, “Can you come too?” Having both his parents out with him at the same time was like Christmas to him. He dropped to the ground and holding Vegeta by the hand tilted a hopeful face up to plead. Vegeta smoothed the lavender hair out of the blue eyes and assured him that, of course, he was coming. It was simply an added bonus that this victorious day would provide him with two excellent lunches.

Bulma was in a state of stress that had her frowning by the time the table was covered in sufficient food for two Saiyans. She sat as far away from her husband as possible but even if she’d managed to be in a neighboring county or another country it would not have been far enough. 

She could _feel_ the man.

Vegeta ate and let his cheerful son talk for a while, in no hurry. Meals that included his race were never quick things. He waited until Bulma seemed to have relaxed and was enjoying the decadent shrimp dish she’d finally settled on. 

“Do you need the bathroom?” he asked Trunks, innocently. He knew the kid well, for all that he didn’t seem to pay as much attention as he really did. Even if he didn’t have to go (Vegeta was nearly certain that he didn’t) the squirmy little boy would never give up the chance to explore a space he’d never been in. Trunks promptly hopped down and followed his father around the table. Vegeta stopped behind Bulma and leaned over her shoulder, pressing his chest against the back of her neck.

“We’ll be right back, Lady,” he rasped, blowing a gust of air down the front of her shirt. She started, her hands shooting up to cup his face out of reflex. Vegeta closed his eyes for a second and sent an extremely careful, extremely small shock of his ki out of his body and into hers.

“Vegeta!” she nearly screamed, jerking stock straight in her chair and scaring Trunks, who jumped. 

The Prince plucked his son off the ground and sauntered away to let him experience the bathrooms, laughing under his breath. He knew what that felt like.

Bulma’s face went red as a beet. She leaned over the table, her forehead in her hand. She was going to kill Vegeta. The tiny pulse of energy he’d sent through her rocketed through her chest, making her nipples stand up like cherry pits. It pooled in her lower belly. Her clit was as swollen as it would be if he’d crawled under the table and buried his tongue in her folds. 

He was a dead man. 

The glare Bulma gave her soon to be ex-husband swore a slow and torturous murder when he returned. Dutifully, his mother nodded and smiled as Trunks regaled her with true stories of automatically flushing toilets and how his father had let him levitate so he could pee in the urinal like a grown up. 

For his part, Vegeta kept his expression infuriatingly serene. In reality, he was a smug asshole. However, Trunks was so insanely pleased with his day that she found herself laughing, unable to help it. Despite the fact that she was sitting in a pool of untouched lust, being with her family was a joy.

Bulma shot virtual daggers at Vegeta; getting about as much reaction as a real dagger would have on his impenetrable skin. That being true, she couldn’t not notice the way other women in the crowded restaurant looked at him. The Prince was the picture of self-possession; a breathtakingly gorgeous man without the slightest idea of the impact he had on human females. The only time he changed his calm demeanor was to narrow his eyes and glare homicide at any male that so much as glanced at his wife. 

Just to piss him off, Bulma engaged in a little harmless (to her wellbeing anyway) flirting with the cute, young host when he brought the check. She was smiling broadly at the kid, barely out of his teens, if she wasn’t mistaken when Trunks yelled, “Dad!”

Vegeta was glowing softly. His tail was unwrapping from his waist, fluffed out dangerously. His head snapped toward his son and the angry appendage disappeared below the level of the table. But the look on his face was more than enough to send the young host running for cover. He didn’t even have to say anything. Even human males with no world experience and no knowledge of aliens can feel a direct threat to their internal organs. 

Bulma raised an eyebrow and blew the Prince a kiss. His ki died down, his expression morphing into one of grudging respect, “Touché”

The rest of the afternoon was less confrontational. They took Trunks to the park and Vegeta took what he considered to be a waste of time with good grace. Studiously, Bulma kept away from him. That little trick with the ki had been a bit much to handle. She was still in a state, having no way to relieve herself. 

Bulma was not completely benign, however. Under the cover of her big, floppy purse she reached between her legs and dipped her fingertips in her own reaction to what Vegeta had done. She wasn’t allowed to touch his lips, but she’d never said anything about the rest of Vegeta’s face. He was pushing Trunks on the swing, his attention on being gentle. Bulma snuck up behind him and before he knew what she was about, ran her fingers over the bridge of his nose and cheek. 

The effect on the Saiyan sense of smell was instantaneous. That glittering gaze zoned in on her with all the subtlety of a hunting predator. His tongue came out and he licked his lips as if he could taste her scent. She could see that he was contemplating doing something that would probably get him arrested. Instead, he left Trunks for a moment, tugged her purse off her arm and readjusted his tail.

No matter what evil thing he had planned in his demonic brain to do next, Bulma wondered if he was having as much fun as she was.

Vegeta was. He knew exactly what a tiny pulse of ki like the one he’d given his wife felt like. It was one of the first tricks Saiyan children learned when they played with their energy. It was a favourite game to catch another susceptible youth unaware with a pulse that would result in a raging hard-on when there was nothing they could do about it. Young boys were forbidden by tradition and respect from using it on girls but that never stopped them, or the reverse, from doing it to the object of a juvenile crush. 

Being a Prince, no one had dared try it on him and his contact with juveniles of his own kind had been nearly non-existent, but he still knew how to do it. It was a useful thing to be able to do to one’s self when the post battle lust was unmanageable and there was no convenient consenting adult available. 

It was more than likely a pretty dirty trick to pull on a human, with their weak ki, the effect would be heightened but all was fair in love and war. Or so Vegeta had read and he had no ethics when it came to winning.

Nor did his Woman, apparently. He’d used his alien nature against her. She’d used it against him. She knew how territorial he was when it came to other males. Worse, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths through his nose…she knew what the presence of her scent _ON HIS FUCKING FACE_ would do to him. With his sense of smell, Vegeta could literally taste her. His poor tail was wrapped so tightly, holding the perpetual erection up against his stomach, that he was having trouble walking with his usual fluid grace. 

Devious little Woman.

>>>

It was after dark by the time they returned to the Compound. Bulma went off to ‘tend’ to herself, leaving the princes to get through the nightly ritual of bathing and brushing one their own. His cursed dick had finally given up and gone down, leaving Vegeta in peace after he’d washed Bulma’s scent from his face. Trunks was still stuck to his father like a limpet, so, feeling indulgent, Vegeta took him to bed for his tuck in.

They sat side by side on his son’s bed, brushing the fur of their tails dry. 

“Why’d you let your tail out in the restaurant, Dad?” Trunks wanted to know. “You and Mom said we can’t do that except at home.”

“That’s right. Only at home,” Vegeta replied absently, most of his mind elsewhere.

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I was thinking about strangling some guy to death with it,” the elder Prince said before he had the forethought to shut himself up.

Trunks said nothing, but he stopped brushing his fur and stared at his father, unsure if he was being serious or not. He wasn’t afraid of his Super Saiyan father, but he knew most other people were. He could actually smell it on Yamcha whenever the man was anywhere near them.

Vegeta bit his tongue.

Fuck.

He put his hand on his son’s head for a moment. “I’m not being serious, son,” he said, trying hard to look guileless, “Brush your tail, it keeps the fur soft. And it will help you sleep.”

Trunks looked somewhat skeptical for someone so young. He’d also seen the faint glow surrounding his parent and he knew what that meant. He could sense ki amazingly well for a child, but he accepted this and leaned against Vegeta, just happy to be next to him. In his opinion, this had been one of the best days ever. He said as much.

Vegeta was right. It was blissfully relaxing, comforting, to brush one’s tail before sleeping. Trunks started to nod off mid-stroke, prompting the older Saiyan to take the brush away and tuck the little boy into bed. The kid had been right as well. To Vegeta, this had been one of his best days. Just before his son drifted off, he said as much.

>>>

Bulma didn’t know how she could keep forgetting that she was married to an alien. One that could move faster, when he wanted to, than she could see. He cornered her in the bedroom before she even knew he was in the room. One second there was no one there, the next she was pressed up against the wall with a solid barrier of Saiyan between her and freedom. 

“Hello, Earth Woman,” he murmured into her hair, using the term by which he’d called her when they first met. Vegeta slammed the palms of both hands flat against the wall on either side of his wife. His chest pressed hard against hers, flattening her breasts and trapping her.

“Hello, Badman,” she breathed into his insanely sensitive ear. Two could play at this game. Bulma ran her hands around his waist and cupped his firm, tight ass. She’d been wanting to do that all day. 

Vegeta wrapped one leg around her, pulling her closer. Without touching anything off limits, he rubbed himself against the swell of her hip. Bulma squeezed his ass, making him gasp. The Prince let his breath out down the back of her neck and Bulma shivered, goosebumps rising all over her skin.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Vegeta asked, his voice very low. He raised his ki just a little, making his skin hot to her touch. Cool hands slid inside his sleeping shorts, touching the delicate flesh there, as he’d hoped.

“I really did,” Bulma answered into the shell of his right ear, running the tip of her nose over the back, “Did you?”

Vegeta decided to cheat. He rose into the air several inches without moving his hands. The swollen length of his cock pressed into Bulma’s lower belly, just above the rise of her slit. 

“I am nowhere close to finished enjoying this day,” he said, rising a little higher, “Yield and I’ll make certain that you enjoy it quite a few times.” He pressed himself into the valley between her tits, a little moan coming from deep in his chest as he looked down into her upturned face. 

Bulma didn’t take her eyes off of his when she pulled his shorts down and tossed them aside, leaving him hovering naked in front of her. She opened her mouth, pink tongue pointing up at him in invitation, “I’ll offer you the same terms.”

Vegeta’s hands fisted. He had to consciously keep from pushing them right through the wall. The next time he destroyed their sleeping chamber, he decided, he was going to have it re-done in solid stone. Dry wall just didn’t make the cut. 

He dropped back down a little and crossed his ankles behind his wife. His tail unraveled, pushing his cock down between their bodies before it came back to tear the flimsy night dress off. He ruffled his fur against her nipples, against the underside of her chin. 

Bulma dropped her head to rest against his chest, nearly giving in to the urge to bite him. Instead, she blew hard over the erection straining for contact. Vegeta cursed quietly, his head tipped back toward the ceiling. 

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?” he fairly cried out. 

He wanted to see stubborn? 

Bulma dipped her hand in between her legs, touching herself. When she looked back up at her Prince, he was watching her with black fire in his eyes. With her wet fingers she teased the secret place that was closed tight but throbbed when she pressed on it, tempting him to let her in. Her other hand wrapped around the base of his tail and massaged the billion nerve endings there.

Vegeta’s aura flared bright and hot. He lost his control, sinking both fists into the drywall with a crack and a shower of shards. Sharp canines sank into his bottom lip. The taste of his own blood brought him back and Vegeta smiled with intention. Concentrating his energy as only an elite warrior with a lifetime of training and no mercy could, he sent a lightening bolt of ki through his body. 

It hit Bulma like a taser. She came in a torrent, the orgasm wracking her entire body from her chest to her ass. Her clit went supernova, all the muscles in her pussy spasming at once in tandem with every other muscle she owned. The only thing that kept her from screaming was the seizure that froze her chest, nearly stopping her heart. 

She was blinded by the electrical storm in her brain; only the grip the airborne Prince had on her kept her from falling to the floor, insensible. 

Bulma shook uncontrollably, her hands turning into vice grips on Vegeta’s thighs. The feeling was a thousand tongues that licked at her, inside her, a thick cock fucking her furiously in every hole, lips on every inch of her skin. Wet streaks ran down the insides of her legs with the power of the pleasure Prince Vegeta forced through her. And then, he did it again.

>>>

Vegeta flew up, pulling his hands violently out of the craters in the bedroom wall. He lifted his limp wife with his legs crossed securely under her arms and her head fell back, eyes open. 

“Vegeta…” she thought she called to the sun-bright daemon angel who held her. He laid her down on the bed, coming to rest on his feet over her. The light around him dimmed, but very slowly, until she could look directly at him. Vegeta bent down, his hair and his eyes going dark. He supported himself on his hands and knees over his wife, looking into her face.

Bulma closed her eyes for a time but he was still there, as immobile as a marble statue when she opened them again. He lowered his head, pressing his ear to her chest.

Listening to her heart.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, rising to search her eyes. Bulma didn’t honestly know. Little aftershocks were still running through her like high octane fuel. 

“What are you?” she whispered from somewhere far away or deep inside. Vegeta was close enough to share her breath, yet he wasn’t touching her and that was intolerable. His heavy, pointed mane fell forward over his forehead and mixed with her blue hair, nothing but concern and love in his wide, onyx eyes. A dark angel even more beautiful than when he burned golden.

Bulma reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. She twined her legs around him, willing him to hold her. Vegeta carefully moved to rest on top of her. Bulma wanted that. His weight, his solidity seemed to be the only thing holding her to the Earth. Without him, she might simply float away like a cinder in the wind.

The Prince brushed his lips over his wife’s with no more pressure than a feather. He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheeks, into her hair, down her neck. He followed with the tip of his tongue. When he kissed her again, he did it wanting.

Bulma returned the caress. Her tongue was hot in his mouth, demanding. He felt strength flow back into her. Long legs came up around his waist, pressing her searing body hard to his. 

“Inside me, Vegeta.”

Vegeta found her opening with the dripping end of his cock. He plunged his long tongue into her mouth with the same hard thrust with which he took her, burying himself completely. The pleasure was enough to rip of cry out of the Prince. Impossibly tight, overflowing with wetness and hot enough to burn; he joined with her, two pieces that fit together into one. He didn’t move for a very long time, taking her mouth while she cradled him inside herself. When he did pull back, it was almost agony. The hold Bulma had on Vegeta was too much, despite how drenched they were. They looked into each other, savouring the mind shattering pleasure of playing with your soul mate. 

Game over.

**Author's Note:**

> Does it really matter who won?  
> Thanks to Akira Toriyama for letting me play in the sandbox he created. I have quite a few one shots like this one and Bound. Let me know if you like this sort of thing.


End file.
